


The Shine of Obsidian

by VictoriaAGrey



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Demon Ryan Bergara, First Kiss, First Time, Humor, Isolation, M/M, Possession, Sexual Content, Shyan Exchange 2k18, Shyan Writing Events, Violence, the Shining - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 06:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15880935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaAGrey/pseuds/VictoriaAGrey
Summary: After months of negotiations, Ryan and Shane are given permission to do a weekend long investigation for Unsolved at The Overlook, a famously haunted hotel which is left abandoned during the fall and winter seasons due to severe weather conditions and its relative isolation.Once left on their own, what Shane had thought would be a fun weekend turns into a fight for survival when Ryan becomes possessed by the very demon he was hunting.///BASED ON THE SHINING (1980) - COMPLETE///





	1. Jelly Beans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chapscher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chapscher/gifts).



> this fic is based on the 1980 movie The Shining, but I've also incorporated details from the book it was based on and details about The Stanley Hotel which inspired Stephen King to write the book in the first place
> 
> it was a joy to write a fic based on such an iconic horror movie, so a special thanks to my prompter. also, thank you to the mods for being so amazing throughout the writing process
> 
> as always, my love and respect to Ryan and Shane

The pristine mountains of Colorado towered above the skyline, carving a jagged edge into the blue expanse sprinkling the landscape with snow. Patches of pine trees scented the air with a delicate, savory perfume. A solitary island sat unblemished in the river below, the lone sentinel left behind from the river's war against stone and land. It was beautiful, it was stunning.

Shane popped three jelly beans into his mouth and cringed when he realized one of them was licorice and not wild blackberry.

"Ugh, Ryan," he said with sharp reproach. "You promised none of these were licorice."

Ryan laughed. "That's what you get for fucking stealing them."

"I didn't steal them! You said I could have some."

"Yeah, after you already rummaged around in my bag, pulled them out, and ate a handful," he said, his smile growing. "I figured I might as well let you bite the bullet."

"A bullet would've tasted better."

They both laughed until it petered out, a comfortable silence settling between them once again. Shane more carefully picked out his next handful and, in a peace offering, held his hand out to Ryan. He picked a grape jelly bean. Shane picked cherry.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Ryan said as he chewed the jelly bean, uncurling an index finger from around the steering wheel and pointing out the windshield. "You should get a few shots."

"I'm sure Mark is already getting better shots, but sure."

Retrieving the camera bag from the backseat, Shane took the handheld out and hit 'Record.' After panning the camera around to get some panoramic shots, as panoramic as he could get in a car, he turned the camera on Ryan.

"What are you doing?" he asked, glaring at him from the corner of his eye.

"You told me to get shots of the beautiful scenery."

Ryan's laugh boomed through the car, making Shane laugh in return. "Get the fuck out of here," he said between bursts of laughter, turning the camera away from him. "And stop making me laugh. I need to concentrate on the road so we don't accidentally Thelma and Louise it."

"Does that make you Louise?"

"I'd be Louise even if I wasn't driving. You're my ditzy friend who thinks it's a good idea to rob a convenience store after my life savings is stolen by your booty call."

Shane was appalled and didn't bother to hide it. "Excuse you. That 'booty call' is a 28 year old Brad Pitt. Whatever he stole, it was well worth the trouble."

Shaking his head, Ryan smiled and rolled his eyes, focusing back on the winding road before them. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that he needed to focus on the road, what with it being a thin, one lane both ways monstrosity built into the side of the mountain. The numerous twists and turns had put a knot in Shane's stomach at first, but considering that they'd been on the road for twenty miles, the knot had loosened into something more negligible. Ryan, his need to be in control aside, actually was a good driver, so Shane felt secure enough to relax and watch the fall scenery pass.

After a couple more miles, the Overlook Hotel came into view on the mountain top, framed by a mountain peak, towering trees and heavy, grey clouds. It looked like a lodge he'd once visited as a child, but bigger and far more imposing. Maybe it was the knowledge that it was the only building present for twenty-five miles either way, but the anxiety he'd felt in his gut came roaring back with a vengeance.

"Can you believe we're staying here a whole weekend?" Ryan said, excitement and awe coloring his tone as he craned his head forward to get a better view.

The day Ryan had gotten the news played out before Shane's eyes in vivid Technicolor. He'd just walked into the office and was pulling his laptop out of his backpack when Ryan ran up to him and grabbed his arms, giving him a good shake. He proceeded to tell him that they got approval to do a weekend stay at the Overlook, alone but for themselves in a hotel which closed its doors during the fall and winter seasons. Shane had expressed interest in doing the weekend stay, mainly because he could treat it like a vacation while Ryan ran around looking for ghosts, but in that moment, he could see how much it meant to Ryan and he'd smiled, bright and earnest at Ryan's happiness.

He wished he could feel a modicum of that joy now.

"As long as the ghosts don't scare us out," he replied, wiggling his fingers at Ryan, laughing when he swatted them away. "Also assuming you don't have a heart attack and die because of a creaking sound that's just a smidge too loud."

"Go to hell, Shane."

"I have been hearing the siren song of home calling me recently."

Ryan parked in the largely vacant parking lot, only two other cars aside from their own and their crew's remaining. They got out of the car and the first thing that struck Shane was the crispness of the air, free of the smog and dirt of LA; only clean oxygen and the faint smell that accompanied snow. He took a deep breath and enjoyed the feel of cold air filling his lungs, something he missed dearly about Chicago winters.

"Communing with nature?"

Opening his eyes, he looked down at Ryan, who was smiling up at him with a look that always struck him as vaguely innocent. Not in the virtuous sense, but in a way that reminded him of the beauty of discovery. Ryan walked through life with open eyes and a bleeding heart, ready and willing to believe in anything and everything if he got a shred of evidence. It was something Shane couldn't relate to, couldn't fathom walking into every room so vulnerable, so he envied it instead. The dichotomy made for an odd dynamic in his head, taking any opportunity to tease Ryan about his beliefs, but envying his ability to believe in the very things he was making fun of.

Maybe that's where it started, admiring the best parts of Ryan until one day he looked at him and his heart hurt.

Shane smiled at him. "I was briefly reminded of Chicago."

After a moment's hesitation, Ryan leaned in. "Now, don't hold me to this, but I'm trying to get approval to film in Chicago. Get Buzzfeed to pay for your trip home," he said conspiratorially. "I think they're on to me, but they can't deny I've proposed some pretty good locations."

"Congress Plaza Hotel?" he asked, and when Ryan raised his eyebrows in surprise, he continued, "Just because I don't believe in ghosts doesn't mean I don't know the places that are known to give people a fright. Chicago is supposed to be one of the most haunted cities in America, you know."

"Yeah, you grew up there and yet, here all 6'4" of you stands, ignorant to the truth."

"Doesn't that say more about the likelihood of ghosts than my purported ignorance?"

Just as Ryan was about to volley back, TJ called them over to where the manager was walking out of the hotel. After they introduced themselves, they were led inside to the expansive lobby where Shane took a minute to appreciate the geometric designs in the floor and dark wood furnishings. He wouldn't exactly call it luxurious, but the place was nothing to scoff at either.

"It's such a pleasure to have you two here," the manager, Stuart Ullman, said with enthusiasm. "Our social media director made us aware of your show awhile ago and when you contacted us to express interest in filming here, well, I can't say I wasn't thrilled."

Ryan's cheeks colored and he smiled, incandescent with the flattery and pride for the show which he worked so hard on. Shane had once contemplated telling him that he was also proud of him, but whenever he tried to say something that genuine, it came across as more condescending than sincere, so like so many other things he wanted to tell Ryan, he shoved it into a corner of his mind and forgot about it.

"Oh, wow, thank you so much," Ryan said, his hand above his heart. "I know you've had some pretty big productions come through here, so it means a lot to me that you'd give our little show such unprecedented access."

Shane nearly rolled his eyes. Ryan had the chronically bad habit of selling his show and himself short... no pun intended. New Unsolved episodes routinely hit a million views in a week, their entire library over two million views across all platforms in the same time span, and while Shane couldn't claim to have studied Youtube statistics, he knew that, at the very least, meant Unsolved wasn't "little."

"Between you and me, I think the other shows we've hosted have... sensationalized their time here. I think your show has a much more honest approach."

Ullman already had some points for being genuinely interested in Unsolved, but his willingness to call out the other shows and praise Unsolved's approach immediately put him in Shane's favor.

"Can't promise we'll find anything, but I can promise Ryan will search every room in an attempt to."

Ryan elbowed his side and Shane wheezed. "Tell me I'm lying, I dare you."

The color returned to Ryan's cheeks and he glared at him, the expression defeated by the smile pulling at his lips. He turned back to Ullman.

"I know we're only here for two days, but I think you said there's some procedures you need to go over with us before you leave?"

"Yes, if you'll just follow me to my office." Shane followed after Ryan and the three members of their crew fell into step behind him. Ullman's office was just off the lobby and was remarkable only in its cleanness, reflecting his months long coming absence. He pointed at the radio sitting on a maple sideboard. "This is the emergency radio. It's already tuned to the channel that will connect you with the nearest police station, so don't mess with the dials unless you know what you're doing. If you need anything, or anything happens, they've already been informed to listen for you. Landlines are out because of a car accident that took out the line at mile ten three days ago and repairs won't be finished for another week or so. We also have our own cell and WiFi towers because of our distance from town, but because of the elevation and weather, service can be spotty at best. You two should be fine, but the radio is your one sure fire means of communication."

Curious about the cell service, Shane was about to pull his phone out of his pocket when TJ stepped in front of him. "That was very informative, thank you, Mr. Ullman," he said with a tone that sounded outwardly friendly, but there was an undertone to it that made Shane brace himself. Sure enough, TJ turned on his heel and glared at him and Ryan significantly, then quietly said, "A word. Now."

Knowing better than to protest, he followed TJ back out into the lobby, Ryan shooting him a cringey face over his shoulder. It wasn't often TJ got pissed off or used his you're-in-deep-shit voice, so when it happened, Shane knew to just shut up and go along with whatever he said unless he had a very strong objection, which admittedly hadn't happened yet. TJ wasn't someone to be trifled with when he was in protective mode.

"You have to reschedule."

Shane felt his eyes widen in surprise. He had to give it to TJ, when it came to business, he came out swinging.

"Wh - what? No!" Ryan rejected, clearly upset by the mere suggestion. "This is our first extended shoot, it took months to organize and there is no rescheduling here. This is it before it's closed for six months. I'm not letting you fuck this up."

And Shane thought TJ came out swinging! TJ was going for a base; Ryan was swinging for the fences, or whatever the idiom was.

"Don't go there, Ryan. You know I'm right." TJ pointed an angry finger at the office they just left. "The only reliable means of communication is a fucking radio. You're alone and over thirty miles away from the nearest police station, forty from the nearest hospital, with only a radio! What if something happened? I will not be responsible for something happening to the two of you."

Ryan seemed to cool down, hearing that TJ's frustration was of the protective variety. He ran a hand over his face and looked back at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped like that. I just - TJ this is a big one. No one has gotten permission to film here, alone, for a whole weekend. This is a huge opportunity for us and I'm not going to turn it down just because of some communication issues."

Devon put her hand up to get their attention before TJ could retort. "Ryan, I'm sorry, but I'm with TJ on this. It'd be one thing if just the cell service or landline was out, but it's both. That, combined with how far away you are... I don't like it."

"Yeah, man, I'm with them," Mark said with a shrug. "The communication issues are bad enough, but look outside." Everyone looked to the windows lining the front-side of the hotel and seemed to finally register the significance of the light snowfall. "If it gets any worse, cell service will definitely be out and if something does happen, the snow could complicate getting you out."

Ryan put his hands on his hips and dropped his head with a sigh. Shane knew Ryan would take a moment to think of a better angle to make his case, but there was a defeated slump to his shoulders, like he knew their crew was right and he was going to fight them on principle alone. In his own head, Shane could admit that they had a point, but that didn't change the fact that Ryan was right too, that it had taken months to organize and there was no way to reschedule such a stay. His instincts told him that they should go, take the side of caution, but his heart broke for Ryan. Knowing full well that he was potentially making a foolish decision, Shane picked a side.

"I'm with Ryan." TJ, Devon, and Mark all turned to him with looks of varying degrees of betrayal, probably thinking he was going to be the final nail in the coffin for their case. Ryan looked at him with hope and gratitude, and really, wasn't that why he made the decision he did? "You guys make it sound like disaster is imminent. What's the worst that could happen? We burn out our retinas on this truly heinous carpet? A demon pushes us down the stairs? You may have to get us out in a Snowcat, but we'll be fine."

"Famous last words," Mark muttered under his breath.

Devon gave him an indignant look. "How can you be so chill when suggesting we may have to rescue you?"

"Taking the extra hour or so to get up here in a Snowcat hardly counts as a rescue mission. Didn't you guys see Cliffhanger? That's a real rescue mission."

TJ rolled his eyes. "So that's it? You guys are staying?"

"If the big guy's with me, yeah."

Shane nodded. "Yeah, we'll stay. This is too big an opportunity to pass up."

"Fine," TJ bit out, clearly irritated, but accepting of the fact that he can't exactly drag the stars of the show out of the hotel. "But if something bad happens, I'll be mad at you both forever. Mad enough to become the first ghost ever just so I can haunt your asses."

"Also, I'm just going to put this out there, I'm sensing some bad juju here."

Mark shook his head at Devon. "Not the juju again."

"I'm serious!" she said, her tone firm. "This place feels wrong."

"A place can't feel wrong. It's a place, not a loofah."

Shane privately agreed with Devon, but he was too caught up on the word "loofah" to say anything. Not that he would have said anything anyway; he was supposed to be the humorous and unflappable one, he couldn't very well admit to a place giving him the creeps and play right into Ryan's fear.

"Is everything okay out here?"

Startled, the whole group simultaneously turned to look at Ullman, who had finally emerged from his office to see what they were up to.

"Just discussing some logistics, nothing major," Ryan called over to him, pasting on a smile. "Is there anything else you need to go over with us?"

Ullman approached them with a smile, unaware or willfully ignorant of the tension that had existed seconds before. "I was just going to tell you that the kitchen is available for your use. I know you two aren't here for long, but you can have whatever you want to eat in there. And there's this of course." He pulled an envelope out of an inner pocket of his jacket and held it out to Ryan. "There's a map of the hotel and grounds in there, the key to lock the front door, password to the security system, and two keycards that unlock every room in the hotel. Are you sure you don't want me to give you a tour?"

"Oh, yeah, thank you, but I think we can manage."

"Alrighty then," Ullman said, holding his hand out to Ryan, who shook it. "Mr. Hallorann, that's our chef, just left five minutes ago, so once I walk out that door, you'll have the place to yourself."

Ryan's smile was genuine again. "I can't wait. And thank you again for the opportunity."

"My pleasure. You guys have fun, I can't wait to see the episode!"

After shaking Shane's hand, as well as their crew's, Ullman walked out the front entrance with a final wave, the door closing with a snick that sounded more final than it should have.


	2. Gold

"This is a terrible fucking idea."

Ryan ignored TJ and pulled the map out of the envelope. "I think we should film the intro in the Gold Room. I've seen pictures online and I think it'd be perfect."

Following after Ryan like a line of ducklings - Shane while staring at the carpet the whole time, amazed by the audacity of the interior designer who thought the garish, brightly colored designs were an aesthetically sound choice - they walked down two long hallways to finally arrive at the Gold Room, a large, rectangular room that was covered wall to ceiling in gold tiles, ranging from highly polished to matte finishes. There was a bar along one wall made with three large mirrors and bands of light, a band of light also inlaid in the bar top. Blue velvet backed chairs circled tables throughout the room, the lounge area sporting red velvet armchairs and couches. If Shane were going to take a stab at guessing where Ryan wanted to film the intro though, it would be the stage where the wall had two recessed areas that reminded him of the shape of cathedral windows.

"TJ, how do you feel about filming the intro in front of the stage?"

_Yahtzee!_

"That should work, yeah." TJ moved to center himself in front of the stage, trying to figure out where it would be best to set up. Shane had to tip his hat to the guy. Considering how upset he'd been not five minutes ago, he recovered quickly when it came to work. "Mark, Devon, what do you think?"

While TJ, Mark, and Devon figured out the shot, Ryan came back to where Shane was standing and took a seat on one of the couches, Shane sitting next to him.

"So, are you going to go for the obvious, or am I going to have to do it?"

"That this would be the perfect room to kill Steven Lim in?" Shane tapped a finger against his chin. "Nah, you're gonna have to go for it."

They shared a look before bursting into laughter, Shane relaxing into the couch as they giggled. His new position made it so he was looking up at Ryan, which was a nice change of pace. Clasping his hands over his stomach, he could feel his own laughter.

"We could leave a trail of edible gold leaf to lead him in here," Ryan said, miming throwing bits of gold on the ground.

Shane mimed picking them up and eating them. "Mmm love that gold. Love me some heavy metals."

"He comes in here, sheds a tear." Ryan wiped away an imaginary tear. "Then starts pulling tiles off the wall with his bare hands."

"Why is the food resisting me!?" Shane cried, imitating trying to pull tiles off the wall.

"Dies in a pile of tiles, gold and concrete covering his mouth."

They both started laughing again, Steven and his gold eating always ripe for humor. He watched Ryan shift, moving so he was facing him. Once the laughter faded, Ryan tapped the back of his hand to get his attention.

"Hey, I, uh - I just wanted to say thanks, you know, for having my back."

Shane watched him for a second, thinking of an appropriately pithy response, but settled on telling him the truth instead. "I always have your back."

Considering that they were rarely serious, Shane supposed he should have expected Ryan's surprised, but touched expression. It filled him with a sense of regret, that maybe Ryan didn't know he cared as much as he did, or worse, didn't know he cared very much at all. He always found expressing his feelings in general to be difficult, but expressing in specific terms how he felt about people, especially to their face, to be nearly impossible. The thought that he couldn't allow his relationship with Ryan to become a casualty of his difficulty in expressing emotion flitted through his mind, even if he knew he couldn't be completely frank with him; he would never purposely put Ryan in the uncomfortable position of knowing how deep his feelings for him actually went.

"Hey, you two!" TJ called as he walked towards them with Mark. "If you could stop lovingly gazing into each other's eyes for a second, we need your help moving a couple of arm chairs over to the stage. Devon wants to see how the red velvet looks under the lights."

The moment broken, Ryan flipped TJ off and walked over to one of the arm chairs. Shane took the other side and on Ryan's count of three, they lifted it and walked it over to the stage. Apparently satisfied with the way the chairs looked under the lights with the gold stage, the crew finished setting up the cameras. Once they were done, Shane and Ryan took their seats and settled in for the intro.

"This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we investigate the Overlook Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado, as part of our ongoing investigation into the question, are ghosts real?"

Shane looked into the camera trained on him and shook his head.

"Now, this episode is going to be a bit different because ol' long legs and I are doing a weekend long stay here."

"You heard that right," Shane said, pointing back and forth between himself and Ryan. "The Ghoul Boys are finally doing an extended stay at a single location."

"Which has been requested by many of you, pretty much since the beginning of the show."

"To be fair, I think people only said that after the Sallie House because they wanted to see if your fear would actually kill you if we stayed any longer."

Ryan laughed. "I am 110% certain that demon would've killed me if we stayed any longer."

"Speaking of demons, if I'm not mistaken, you haven't made your sacrifice this season."

"And you would be right," Ryan confirmed, looking nervous for the first time since they arrived. The hustle and bustle of filming prep usually distracted Ryan for awhile, but doing the intro always brought the fear back. "Not only are we staying a whole weekend, but this is my demon sacrifice for the season." Ryan looked directly into the camera trained on him. "You're welcome."

"Yeah, if the Ry guy dies this weekend, you better appreciate his sacrifice, ghouligans!"

"Somehow, I always knew I'd die for the internet." They both laughed and Ryan picked his cell phone up from his lap. "You ready to hear all about the hotel that's going to be the death of me?"

Shane waved his hand out imploringly. "Please, spin me a yarn."

"Alright, then let's get into it."

_**Opened in 1909, the Overlook Hotel is a four story luxury hotel that was built to accommodate its wealthy guests. During construction and the early days of its opening, it faced numerous attacks from the native tribe, Ute, due to the hotel sitting atop native burial grounds. It is not known if these skirmishes claimed lives, but paranormal activity has been reported since it opened its doors. Common activity reported are feelings of unrest to outright hostility, cold spots, the sensation of being watched, as well as numerous reports of full body apparitions, also known as FBAs.** _

"Wait, so we're - we're sitting upon native burial grounds?"

While Shane didn't put any stock in haunting and superstitions, he was discomfited by the thought that a final resting spot for natives was disturbed, all for the sake of a luxury hotel. It read to him as a microcosm of white imperialism in America, as well as another reason why native peoples still had the right to be pissed off.

"Official records from the time say no, but according to the Ute, it is and they had witnesses who claim they saw construction workers uncover bones and discard them. I'm going to make the bold proclamation that the official records are wrong."

"Yeah, I think that's a safe assumption. I wouldn't exactly be chomping at the bit to admit I did something that fucked up."

Ryan nodded in agreement. "Yeah, in the 80s the hotel incorporated native art into the decor and started working with the tribe to host festivals celebrating native culture, which - I mean, nothing can make up for what the original owner did, but I do think it's admirable that they're attempting to right a wrong as much as they can."

"I still don't like it, but I think you're right; at least they're attempting to do something instead of pretending everything is a-okay."

_**In 1911, the first of many incidents which would make not only the Overlook famous, but specifically room 237, occurred. Due to a massive storm, the electricity was knocked out and as a result, the housekeeper, a woman named Elizabeth Wilson, was tasked with entering all the rooms and lighting the gas lamps. Unknown to her, there was a gas leak in room 237, so when she entered and lit the gas lamp, the room exploded. The neighboring rooms were also destroyed and the explosion even took out a portion of the roof and the room below. Remarkably, Elizabeth survived because she fell through the floor when the explosion blew it out.** _

"She survived!?" Shane asked, amazed that someone could live to tell the tale after something that should've been fatal.

"Yeah, she was burned and broke both ankles and legs, but she survived. The owner, F.O. Stanley, actually paid all her medical bills, as well as for her room and board and a full time nurse here in the hotel. She even got a promotion and raise when she was ready to work again."

"I'm not on good terms with Stanley right now, but at least he took care of her."

"Listen, all I gotta say is he's lucky she didn't want more." Ryan looked to the ceiling with a dreamy expression. "If that was me, I would've been dreaming of dollar signs."

Shane laughed. "Have him fund your dreams of visiting Paddington Station with all your Paddingtons?"

"No, I'm thinking bigger. Picture this."

Closing his eyes, Shane put his hands up in the air. "Paint me a picture."

"I get a bear like Wojtek, have him trained so he's - you know, nice and helpful like Wojtek, and name him Paddington! I'd have my own, real life Paddington!"

Shane was laughing before Ryan finished, the picture in his mind too rich and hilarious for him to ignore. "No, that's not - no. Just - all I can see is a 450-pound bear dressed in a red hat and blue coat trying to share its cigarette with you and you're just... you're fucking shaking in your boots, but you love him so much."

Ryan laughed and covered his face with his hands, Shane barely able to make out his skin coloring through his fingers. When he looked back at him, he was crying. "'I - I love you so much, Paddington, but I'm not a big smoker. Thanks tho!'"

Their laughter, as well as their crew's, went on for another minute or so before Ryan got a hold of himself.

"Fuck, okay, is everybody good?" he asked, wiping tears from his eyes. "We good to go again? Got that all out of your systems?"

After he got a thumbs up from Devon and Shane gave a him a 'carry on' hand wave, Ryan continued.

_**While reports of activity in the Overlook are rife with FBA sightings, arguably the most bizarre are numerous reports of a bartender named Delbert Grady. One such report is from a man in 1963 who claims to have come down to the bar in the Gold Room late one night after a fight with his wife to grab a drink. The room was empty due to the hour and he claims the bartender, who started out as soft spoken and affable, started to imply that he should kill his wife. He left immediately and reported the bartender first thing the next morning, only to learn that the hotel had no one by that name in their employ, as well as there being no witnesses to his trip to the bar. The only evidence that the night happened at all was a single, partially drunk tumbler of scotch sitting on the bar top of the locked room.** _

"Homicide angle aside, this ghost bartender sounds pretty chill."

"You'd be down to chill with him?" Ryan asked with a snicker.

"I'd be down to knock back a few cold ones, yeah."

"Some have postulated he's a demon."

Shane raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. "Some have postulated that we're living in a simulation, but that doesn't make it true."

Ryan smiled at him the way he tended to when he thought he was going to drop a nugget of information so catastrophic to Shane's argument that he couldn't help but revel in it. Shane secretly loved that smile, but he wasn't stupid enough to admit it to him.

_**In 1970, the new winter caretaker hired for the season, Charles Grady, moved into the Overlook with his wife and two daughters.** _

"Hold up. This guy's name is also Grady?"

The smile returned. "It sure is."

"Speaking from a narrative mirror stand point, this guy should be a nightmare if he's anything like ol' Delbert."

"I would argue he's worse."

Shane was always intrigued by the history of the places they went to, even if he didn't believe in ghosts and demons, but the two figures having the same last name piqued his interest more than usual. "Do tell."

_**A month after the Gradys moved in, Mrs. Grady started to express concern during her weekly radio calls to the police station. She reported that Charles had started experiencing mood swings and was becoming distant, but repeatedly denied that they needed to leave the Overlook, assuring them by saying "we'll be fine." After a few months of faithfully checking-in, the police grew concerned when their calls went unanswered for two days and a pair of deputies were dispatched to conduct a wellness check. When they searched the hotel looking for the family, they were horrified to discover the bodies of Mrs. Grady and her two daughters stacked neatly in room 237, clearly murdered by Charles with an ax who, after killing his family, killed himself with a shotgun.** _

_**Many believe Charles was possessed by Delbert, a demon that is believed to attempt to coax men into killing their significant other. Since the murders took place, it is reported that guests in room 237 fell sick or uneasy and the figure of two girls appear in the hall outside the room, asking children to "come play with us."** _

Latching onto the obvious, Shane said, "Clearly, Mrs. Grady wasn't jazzing it that night."

Ryan laughed. "I hate the fact that I thought the same thing."

"But, and let's be clear here, this guy took the Axeman's game and upped it. Grady is three for three. Axeman was six for twelve."

"And don't forget that one of the Axeman's victim's was pregnant and went on to give birth. Technically, he's six for thirteen."

"Even worse! Truly one of the weakest characters in the SKU."

Ryan scrunched his face up in confusion. "The SKU?"

"The Serial Killer Universe."

They both laughed until Ryan continued. "Yeah, the Axeman is basically the Vision of the SKU; useless and probably turned grey when he died."

"I think in this equation, Grady is Quicksilver. Effective until he's DEAD."

"Jesus Christ, dude," Ryan said with a chuckle.

"What, too soon?"

Ryan smiled as he shook his head. Shane remembered watching Age of Ultron with Ryan and then spending the subsequent hour complaining about it. As far as garbage Marvel movies went, it wasn't the worst, that title belonged firmly in Thor: The Dark World's hands, but it was flawed enough that they still enjoyed roasting it. Before he could compare Ultron to Delbert Grady, TJ called over to them.

"Hey, Ryan, I've got a note from you here in my filming notes that this is all you're wanting to do for the intro. Are you sure you're good with what we have?"

"Yeah," Ryan called back. "I think this is good for the intro. This ep is going to be longer than usual obviously and I don't want to bog it down too much. The bulk of what I'm wanting to do is film me and Shane investigating the hotel each day. That's going to take up a lot of the episode."

"So you're just wanting to use this as a tone setter, yeah?"

"Pretty much. Why, what are you thinking?"

"Nothing. I just don't want you to go back to edit this shit and be disappointed if we don't have enough."

"The only thing that would disappoint me would be not finding anything this weekend." Ryan looked back at Shane and smiled. "I'm going to get some good evidence this weekend, I can feel it."

"You know what I feel?"

As if from rote, Ryan said in a voice he assumed was meant to imitate him, "Nothing, like everywhere else we go."

"Actually, I was going to say a fart, but that works, too."

Ryan rolled his eyes in amusement before standing from his seat and jumping up and down a few times, as if to get his circulation going again. Shane followed him over to their crew and helped them pack the equipment that wouldn't be needed for their first investigation of the hotel. As they left the Gold Room, they turned off the lights and suddenly found themselves ensconced in darkness. They each flipped on a flashlight and made their way back to the entrance of the hotel to drop off what they wouldn't need to be carrying around, Shane pulling out the handheld to record the start of their investigation as Ryan grabbed something out of his bag.

"Oh, Ryan, no," Shane laughed at he recorded Ryan clipping his holy water-gun onto his belt.

"If a demon comes after us, you'll thank me," he insisted, checking to make sure it was secure before he led them to the lounge.

The lounge was a massive room with floor to ceiling windows topped with stained glass panels, a large fireplace that reminded him of one he saw in a castle during their trek to England, and a grand staircase that had a landing which would allow one to look over the whole lounge. The iron chandeliers hanging above their heads looked ominous in the low light and the various taxidermied animal heads on the walls didn't help. He did note that the Native American influence was more apparent in the room than he had seen throughout the hotel so far, the mural above the fireplace unmistakable as anything else. Shane also noted that there was a long desk at the head of the room, several seating areas, and a grand piano.

Shane turned the handheld toward Ryan and started filming him asking questions of the spirits for several minutes before whipping out what Shane thought of as the torture box. After several more minutes of nothing with the spirit box, they left the room and made their way upstairs to the caretaker's quarters, which was a small space that included two bedrooms and a kitchen area that also acted as the living room. Much like the lounge, nothing happened.

Next up was room 237, which Shane was admittedly interested in investigating. The second they walked over the threshold, Ryan commented that the room felt wrong and immediately swore because the battery he'd just put in his camera died.

"I fucking told you guys," Devon said, sounding both irritated and vindicated. "This place is bad news and you didn't listen to me!"

"I listened to you," Ryan mumbled around the new battery pack in his mouth.

"This doesn't prove anything, Dev," Mark said as he checked the battery life on his own camera. "It's just a coincidence."

"No, it's not. I felt something when we walked in here and so did Ryan, then his battery died. Whatever is in here, it feeds on energy. Come on, TJ, didn't you feel something?"

TJ looked at her apologetically. "Sorry, Dev, but I got nothing."

She looked towards Shane, but sighed and looked away. Little did Devon know, she would've had an ally in Shane, though he wasn't sure he would have admitted as much. The room did feel... off somehow, like it was heavier than the rest of the hotel. He couldn't explain it, but he knew she was right in a general sort of way, that there was something unquestionably odd about the room.

"It's okay, Devon," Shane said, touching her shoulder in an attempt to reassure her. "You'll be out of here in no time."

She touched his hand and looked up at him worriedly. "But you won't."

Shane had known from the first debriefing he got on the hotel that he and Ryan were going to be sleeping in room 237 during their stay, but he had somehow forgotten that detail until Devon reminded him of it. A cold feeling slithered down his spine and he did his best to suppress it, but he could tell from the furrowing of her eyebrows that he didn't entirely succeed.

"You ready to go again, big guy?"

Looking away from Devon and back to Ryan, he held his handheld out to Ryan. "Born ready."

They finished filming in the room, Ryan adding the lovely detail that an FBA commonly seen in the room was of a naked, soaking wet, decomposing woman which made Shane laugh as he inwardly cringed.

Last, but not least, they made their way to the old boiler room. Most of the equipment was outdated and unused, driving home the fact that they were, in fact, in a building over a century old. He and Ryan made their way through row after row of piping and machinery, the low hum and whine of the equipment that did work making Ryan twist and turn in whatever direction it came from. They spent upwards of half an hour in the room chasing shadows, Ryan absolutely convinced that there was something in the room with them, but eventually he gave up and allowed himself to be led back upstairs so they could finish shooting for the night.

Due to them arriving an hour or so before sunset, they hadn't been able to film the opening shot of the episode of them walking up to the hotel. They quickly got the shot, then waited around while Mark got some shots of the hotel, the mountains, and the hedge-maze that was on the other side of the parking lot. Once he was done, they helped pack the car with the equipment they wouldn't be using and said their goodbyes to the crew.

"Hey, listen to me," TJ said, hanging behind as Devon and Mark got in the car they drove up in. "I want an update every six hours from you guys."

"But mom!" Shane bellowed, holding the 'o' for a second, making Ryan giggle.

"I mean it. I still think this is a bad idea, but if you two are going to stay, I want someway of knowing you're okay. I'm stopping at the police station once we get back in town and telling them to expect call-ins from you and that they need to call me when you do."

Ryan brushed a hand through his hair, snowflakes falling out in a small flurry. "I still think you're overreacting, but fine."

TJ breathed a sigh of relief, probably having expected more of an uphill battle. "First one is at six in the morning and every six hours thereafter."

"What makes you think I'll be up by six!?"

"You sleep, like, four hours a night, don't act like you won't be awake. Plus, you barely sleep while on location anyway. We'll probably come to get you and you'll be all sleep deprived and making no sense."

Ryan nodded at him after a moment. "Fair enough."

"Shane, please make sure he gets at least a little sleep, okay?"

The first thing that Shane thought of was the potential double entendre of his request, but saved his amusement towards it for himself, sensing TJ's seriousness. "I solemnly swear that, when I'm not killing ghouls, I'll make sure Ryan's catching some Z's."

After hugging them goodbye, TJ got in the car with Devon and Mark, the three of them waving him and Ryan a final goodbye before starting back down the long, winding road back into town. They watched them go for a minute before they turned to each other, Ryan with a smile.

"You ready for a weekend full of gathering evidence of the supernatural?"

"I'm ready for a weekend spent telling you that the whisper you heard was the wind, if that's what you mean."

They shared a smile then reached for their bags leaning against their car, slinging them over their shoulders before walking back up to the Overlook to start their weekend stay.


	3. Possession

The irony wasn't lost on Shane that, while their phones weren't working, the satellite TV was. He turned the TV on on autopilot, used to turning it on after they got to whatever motel hell Ryan checked them into in order to kill some time before going to sleep, and got so far as changing the channel to HBO to watch the repeat of the week's episode of Westworld he missed before he realized the significance of what he'd done.

"I can't check my Twitter mentions, but by damn it, I can watch people fuck in an AI simulation of the Old West!"

Ryan shot him a quick look before - and there really was no better word for it - he started prowling around the room, the thermal camera firmly out in front of him.

"Care to explain, Ryan?" Shane asked after a minute of switching between watching his girl Dolores fuck shit up and Ryan wielding the thermal like a weapon.

"I'm making sure we're the only ones in the room."

Shane sighed and tossed the remote aside, getting off of the bed and walking down the two steps into the living room to follow Ryan and join in on ghoul patrol. It took every ounce of self control he had to not burst into tears at the sight of the clashing patterns of the curtains, wallpaper, and carpet. Truly, the evidently colorblind interior decorator who worked on the place deserved to get murked. He wouldn't even allow the poor sap to get featured on Unsolved, he was that viscerally furious about the pattern warfare being waged on his occipital lobe.

"Stop glaring at the carpet and spout your usual bullshit about ghosts not being real and can I please just go to sleep," Ryan said, bent over and pointing the thermal into the fireplace.

Shane was moderately impressed by Ryan knowing he was glaring at the carpet because he didn't even realize he was until he said it, blinking at the carpet and cringing when he looked away from it and towards Ryan.

"I was actually going to ask how I can help, but if you're gonna be that way...," he trailed off, leaving it open for Ryan to take him up on his offer or rebuff it.

Ryan turned on his heel away from a corner to look at him with a confused expression. "What do you mean by help? Because if it's staring at me condescendingly as I do this, I think I'll pass."

Ignoring the unexpected sting in his chest from the comment, Shane shrugged. "We're going to be here for days, sleeping in this room, and TJ was right - you don't tend to sleep much, if at all, when we're on location. If doing this will alleviate some of the stress of the situation so you can sleep, I'm willing to help."

Ryan seemed to debate the sincerity of his offer for a moment before he tentatively held out the thermal cam. "Would you mind checking the bathroom with this? I want to do a quick session with the spirit box."

"Sure." Shane walked over to him and took the thermal. "Anything to get away from the torture box."

Catching a fleeting glimpse of Ryan's glare before he started towards the bathroom, Shane smirked to himself and focused on the thermal read out. He wasn't seeing anything on the screen aside from a measure of warmth left over from where he'd been sitting on the bed. The crackle and static of the spirit box turning on echoed through the room and Shane took that as his cue to enter the bathroom.

Considering that the bathroom was in the same obnoxious, 70s inspired vein as the rest of the hotel, he was surprised to find that he wasn't personally offended by the space. It was a soft green color and the three walls in front of him had large arches over them that encased that particular area of the room. The one on the far wall enclosed a bathtub, the one to his right two sinks, and the other a toilet and surprisingly, a bidet. He was ready to yell some crack about butt hygiene, but was startled when he thought he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Quickly swinging the thermal camera in the general area where he thought he saw something, he was relieved to note that there was no thermal signature. He may not believe in ghosts, but it was always nice to be reassured that his bathroom wasn't being haunted by the ghost of a decomposing woman.

Walking out of the bathroom, he called to Ryan over the cacophony of the spirit box. "I got nothing. Shocking, I know. You?"

The room fell quiet, the torture box finally silenced. "Nothing. You sure you didn't get anything?"

"Only if you include the warmth of my ass on the bed."

Ryan smiled at Shane as he joined him in the living room again, taking the thermal cam from him. "How do you feel about making one more stop before we go to sleep?"

Hands on his hips, Shane glared at Ryan. "I told you to get the extra waffle for dinner, but sure, keep not listening to a word I say."

"I wasn't suggesting that we go to the kitchen, you jerk," Ryan laughed. "I want to check the boiler room one more time. I could've sworn I saw something down there."

Knowing it would be useless to argue the point, Shane acquiesced and they grabbed their body cams and the handheld for their impromptu investigation. Using only the map and a pair of flashlights to help guide them back to the boiler room, they wound their way through one pitch black corridor after another, Shane growing increasingly suspicious about the length of time they'd been walking. When he checked his watch, he was surprised to note that they had been walking for over six minutes. Just as he was thinking of a way to question the situation, they came to a stop at the door that led down to the boiler room.

"Should we start recording here?" Ryan asked, turning around to look up at him as he turned on his body cam.

"Yeah, hold on." Shane switched on his body cam and hit 'Record' on the handheld, holding it up to Ryan. "Alright, buddy, explain to the ghouligans why you're dragging me through the hotel again mere moments after we concluded the main investigation."

Ryan looked at him with exasperated amusement. "Must you word it like that?"

"How about: why are you keeping me awake longer than I need to be?"

"Because I like making you suffer," he said with fake seriousness, a smile breaking through.

"I think I should bring the audience up to speed." Shane cleared his throat and got into character for the camera. "Okay, so about an hour ago we wrapped recording our official investigation with the crew, but a few minutes ago, Ryan asked to come back down to the boiler room before we turned in for the night."

"I swear something is down here, man. I saw it," Ryan insisted, still amused but in character. "If the spirits are active tonight, we need to strike while the iron's hot. I know something down here is trying to communicate, I can feel it."

"What if they just want to put in their order like the ghost at Bellaire?" Shane punctuated his next word to sound like it was coming through the spirit box. "Chimi - changa."

Ryan laughed loudly, hand over his stomach. "Listen, if it requests a chimichanga, I'll go make the fucking thing myself. We have a full kitchen at our disposal and I'm not afraid to use it."

"No, but the ghosts should be."

"Fuck you, Shane," he said, still laughing as he turned around and swiped his keycard over the scanner, opening the door. "Here we go."

Descending the stairs into the boiler room, Shane watched his feet to ensure he didn't trip and fall, taking Ryan down with him. With the space only illuminated by their flashlights, he was reminded again of how eerie it was because of all the old and unused machinery. It was no wonder Ryan thought he saw something; the shadows played devilish tricks in such places.

"Where did you think you saw something?" Shane asked, using his flashlight to get a good look around.

"Over here." Trailing after Ryan, they came to a stop in what looked like a junction between multiple sections, Shane having zero idea about what anything did. "I thought I saw something walking between those machines."

Shane followed the light of Ryan's flashlight and stared down what looked like a long, empty tunnel, much like the death chute at Waverly. His shadow cast by Ryan's flashlight extended down the vacant area and he stepped towards it, willing to go take a look, when he heard Ryan quietly gasp.

"Shane."

Turning around at the gentle intonation, he froze at the sight of Ryan, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, looking more terrified than he'd ever seen him. His fear was a visceral thing, bleeding into Shane's chest and finding a home, chills running down his body and raising the hairs on his neck. The moment couldn't have lasted longer than a second, but Shane felt as if he lived an eternity in it.

"Ryan."

As if on cue, Ryan dropped to the floor, shaking so hard Shane immediately registered it as a seizure.

"Shit!"

He dropped his handheld and flashlight and ran over to Ryan, dropping to his knees and turning him on his side, hoping he was remembering his Boy Scout training correctly. Leaning over him to see his face, Shane saw that his eyes had rolled back into his head and his face was contorted into a grimace. He checked that his airways weren't restricted and held him in place as best he could, Ryan's thrashing making it difficult. No more than a few seconds passed before Ryan stopped convulsing, the reprieve lasting only a moment before his back arched and he screamed at the top of his lungs; the scream so loud that Shane let go of him on instinct and slapped his hands over his own ears. Ryan's body went suddenly limp then, his back partially supported by Shane's lap, and his head lolled to the side.

After quickly finding a pulse on Ryan - a bit fast, but steady - Shane laid Ryan flat on his back, realizing only then that he himself was shaking. He shook his hands out in an attempt to rid himself of the tremors, then started running them through Ryan's hair, looking for bumps or signs of bleeding. Thankfully, he didn't find anything.

"Ryan, it's Shane. If you can hear me, I need you to open your eyes." Not wanting to jostle him, he kept running a hand over his chest, trying to wake him as gently as possible.

"Ryan, please open your eyes."

Neither of their flashlights were directly trained on them, which meant that Shane was working with more of a glow around them than actual light. As Ryan's eyes started to flutter open, the flashlights flickered, and for a split second, the whites of his eyes appeared black. Shane wrote it off as a trick of the light and looked down at Ryan intently when he finally made eye contact.

"Who?" Ryan asked, his voice cracking and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Shane's heart stopped. "Shane. My name is Shane. Do you remember me?"

He continued to look at him in confusion until he smirked. "Ol' Paper Ass Madej."

"Jesus, Ryan." Shane's head dropped and he took a deep breath, the knot of anxiety in his throat unwinding. "Now's really not the time to be making fun of my lack of an ass."

"Any time is the right time to be making fun of your lack of an ass."

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Shane attempted to get a hold on his own body, the adrenaline coursing through him making him agitated and jittery. Once he thought he had himself more or less under control, he looked back at Ryan, who was looking at him like he was observing him.

"Do you have a history of seizures?"

"Seizures?"

"Yeah, you just had one," Shane explained, Ryan looking up at him as if he were completely unfazed by the information. "Do you have a history of them that I don't know about? Have you had one before?"

"No."

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he saw that he had no bars; not so much as a flicker out of the tiny, nothing bar. He cringed. TJ was going to fucking murder him.

"Do you think you can walk? We needs to get upstairs so I can get us out of here."

Ryan rolled to his side away from Shane, Shane moving his hands to help support him. "No."

"What do you mean 'no?'"

"No, as in N-O. No. We're not going anywhere."

Shane moved into a crouch and helped Ryan stand up along with him. "Hate to break it to you, but this isn't exactly up for discussion."

"Seizures aren't fatal. I'll be fine."

"But they can be indicators of a bigger problem. This is your first seizure, you have to get it checked out to make sure there isn't something more nefarious at play."

Ryan moved away from him and without his support, subsequently keeled over, landing against a machine. Shane reached for him, but Ryan swatted his hands away.

"This is our first extended shoot, it took months to organize and there is no rescheduling here. This is it before it's closed for six months. I'm not letting you fuck this up," Ryan mumbled, word for word what he'd said to TJ earlier in the day. He was swaying precariously where he was standing and Shane's hands itched to reach out and stabilize him.

"Ryan, you're not well. How about - I don't know, we go get you checked out and if they give you a clean bill of health, we'll come back?"

"The only way you're getting me out of here is if I'm dead."

Shane felt his jaw drop, stunned by the fire in Ryan's eyes and the firmness of his voice. Sometimes Ryan could be stubborn on the verge of obstinate, but he could always be made to see reason eventually. The fact that he was so unconcerned with his own health was baffling to Shane; that he'd potentially put his life in danger for an episode just because it was a special. Shane bit his lip and decided to change tactics.

"Can you walk?"

Ryan was standing independently, but he was unsteady. He stared at Shane challengingly.

"Listen, either way, we need to get upstairs. Do you think you can do the stairs with my help?"

"Just give me a few minutes to get my bearings."

Sensing that was the most he'd get Ryan to agree to for the moment, Shane moved to retrieve their flashlights. He turned one of them off and put it inside his jacket pocket, keeping the other on him. Picking up the handheld camera, he was surprised to note that, while the screen did crack, the camera itself did not. Thinking of the camera, he remembered that his body cam was still on and turned it off.

"What did you see?"

"I'm sorry?" Ryan responded, eyes closed and leaning against a pipe.

"What did you see?" Shane asked, walking over to Ryan and switching off his body cam. "You were terrified before you collapsed."

Ryan scoffed. "Probably nothing. You know me, I shit myself when I hear a gust of wind."

Something about his wording and dismissive tone sent up red flags in Shane's head, but he also knew that seizures could make people act oddly for hours, even weeks afterwards. He unclasped his body cam and slipped it into a pocket.

"No, you didn't _hear_ something, you _saw_ something. You really don't recall what it was?"

"Nope."

The little pop he added to the 'p' annoyed Shane and he rolled his eyes. He unclasped Ryan's body cam and slipped it into another pocket, which seemed to finally get Ryan's attention.

"Are you good to take the stairs?" he asked, careful to keep himself from sounding confrontational.

Ryan's face softened and he nodded. "I think so."

"Alright, then let's go."

Shane wrapped an arm around Ryan and had him do the same to him. They made it as far as the staircase before Ryan admitted defeat.

"I don't think it would be, uh, wise for me to do the stairs."

Shane agreed. The concrete staircase was straight up with no landing until the top and the individual stairs were unusually thin. Ryan was still unsteady on his feet and was liable to trip at some point. Thinking fast, he knew he wasn't strong enough to carry him in his arms, but he did have another idea.

"How do you feel about a piggyback ride?"

A look of amusement lit up Ryan's features. "A piggyback ride?"

"It's the only thing I can think of to get you up the stairs," he said, smiling back at Ryan. "If you have another idea, please fell free to share with the class."

With a laugh, Ryan shook his head. "I got nothing. How do you wanna do this? I don't think I can exactly jump the eight feet onto your back."

Letting go of his hold on Ryan, he passed him the flashlight and crouched with one knee on the ground and the other up for leverage. "Wrap your arms around my neck. When I start to stand up, wrap your legs around me."

"This would be a great bit if it wasn't for me being useless."

Shane felt Ryan wrap his arms around his neck and lean forward to help with the initial lift. Gripping onto Ryan's arms, Shane leaned then started to lift, managing to get both legs underneath himself. As he told him to, Ryan wrapped his legs around him when he started to lift and that's when he shifted from holding onto his arms to his legs. When he got upright, he was pleasantly surprised that carrying Ryan's additional weight wasn't difficult.

"How are you doing, Ryan? You okay?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

Smiling to himself, Shane walked over to the foot of the stairs and instructed Ryan to keep the flashlight pointed down onto the stairs. He did and Shane was able to walk up them without needing to stop. When they got to the landing, Ryan slid off of his back and opened the door. Again, Shane wrapped his arm around Ryan to support him for their walk through the darkened corridors of the hotel back to room 237. At one point during their trek back, he could've sworn that he saw a hall where one hadn't existed before, but with Ryan in the shape that he was, he couldn't go investigate it.

Arriving at their final obstacle, the grand staircase leading up to the second floor, Shane looked down at Ryan.

"Ready to make me a human escalator again?"

Ryan smiled up at him and patted his stomach before disconnecting from his side. "I think I can make it, big guy. These aren't as bad as the ones in the boiler room."

"Don't you need me to at least help you up them?"

"I think I'm doing better now. For the last minute or so, we've just been a little more familiar with each other than usual."

Shane knew he'd been walking steadier, but he still didn't want him walking up the stairs unsupported. "Fine, but I'll be behind you the whole time."

Ryan rolled his eyes and gripped the railing. "Enjoy the view."

Giving him the point, Shane followed Ryan at his slow, but steady pace up the stairs, periodically placing a hand on the small of his back when he seemed to waver. After the fourth time he did so, Ryan spun around and looked down at him.

"I'm fine," he insisted, cupping Shane's face between his hands. He leaned in and kissed him before turning back around and starting back up the stairs, saying over his shoulder, "Stop worrying."

It wasn't often Shane could claim to be speechless, but he was in that moment.

Casual kisses were something he was familiar with, he had friends who kissed him in greeting and as a goodbye, but all of them were women and none of them kissed him on the lips. He was an affectionate person, he liked affection, and Ryan was notoriously bad at it. He could actually count the number of times Ryan had hugged him because it happened so rarely and it was like pulling teeth to get him to do it the few times he did. Shane had even felt _bad_ about it, thinking he was making Ryan do something he didn't want to, until a few months later when he gave him a souvenir from his family trip to Disney World and Ryan hugged him in thanks. It had been awkward, but earnest. The point was, Ryan didn't do physical affection, so to say that kissing him was unusual was a vast understatement.

He had occasionally tortured himself with thoughts of what it would be like to kiss Ryan, but never, in any of his ruminations, did Ryan kiss him with cold dismissiveness, as a way of just shutting him up. To be honest, it hurt more than if he'd never kissed him at all and he lived the rest of his life never knowing what it would have been like.

The rest of the walk back to their room was largely silent, Ryan electing to forego a shower when they got back, throwing his clothes into a corner as he stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed. Shane took the time to return the cameras to their proper places before joining Ryan in the bedroom and setting up a static cam in the corner of the room to record during the night. As he repeated the process in the living room, he contemplated calling the cops on the radio to come get them, having them make an excuse when they arrived so Ryan wouldn't blame him. He kept looking between their equipment and the door, wondering if he could really go behind Ryan's back and make the call he felt was necessary. His attention was caught by a Paddington keychain on Ryan's backpack.

"Hey, Shane," Ryan said, just loud enough for him to hear him.

Still staring at Paddington, Shane responded, "Yeah?"

"If you call the cops, I'll kill you."

Startled by his icy tone, Shane jerked his head up from the Paddington and towards Ryan. He was lying in bed, looking at him with an expressionless face. The moment crystalized between them, Shane barely able to breath past the tightening of his chest until Ryan smirked.

"What do you think of Night Night? Scarier than Ricky?"

Shane relaxed somewhat, but for the first time since he met Ryan, he felt like he didn't know who the man was looking back at him.

"Pretty good, but Ricky's charm and control over a whole town still makes him scarier."

"Guess I've got some work to do."

Ryan turned over in the bed and Shane watched him, wondering what the hell just happened. He knew it was probably just a side effect of the seizure and Ryan would get back to normal soon, but that didn't mean he wasn't unsettled by the experience. Checking the time on his watch, he switched over to the alarm and set it to vibrate in two hours.

The least he could do was make sure his friend survived the night.


	4. Heat

Shane woke Ryan up at 2 and 4am, following concussion protocol because he wasn't sure if there was such a thing as seizure recovery and he wanted to err on the side of caution. Ryan irritably, but dutifully, answered the usual questions: what's your name, what's my name, what year is it, and who is the president. Ryan's cringe every time he asked the latter question made Shane smile and he would go back to sleep reassured that his friend would be okay.

The vibration of his watch awoke him again at 6am and when he opened his eyes, it was to an empty bed. He touched Ryan's pillow and noted that it was cold, like he'd been up for awhile. Shane got out of bed and turned off the static cams, deciding to take a shower before he went in search of Ryan.

Feeling refreshed, he put on a clean outfit and headed downstairs, quickly calling the police on the radio to check in and then heading for the kitchen because, if anything about Ryan was consistent, it was his love of breakfast.

Walking into the kitchen, Shane expected to see Ryan eating a bowl of cereal or, if he was feeling adventurous, a couple of fresh waffles. What he was not expecting to see was a disaster worthy of a complete meltdown on The Great British Bake Off.

"Ryan, what the fuck?" he said, more to himself than to the room at large.

Ryan's head popped up over a countertop, a big stupid smile on his face as he hoisted a small container into the air. "I finally found the cinnamon!"

Noticing the obscene amount flour all over the countertops, Shane replied, "Were they hiding it in the cocaine?"

"This kitchen is huge! I've been in here for an hour and I still haven't found a whisk," he informed him enthusiastically, ignoring Shane's evident shock at the state of the room. "I was so excited I kinda forgot I'm a terrible cook."

"And you couldn't have settled for, I don't know, toasting a pop tart?"

"When I have this beautiful kitchen at my disposal? Fuck that!" He ground a cinnamon stick on top of something he couldn't see over a used mixing bowl, picked it up and quickly made his way over to him.

Against his better judgement, Shane was amused. "You spent the morning baking cupcakes?"

Ryan looked aghast. "It's a muffin."

"But there's frosting on top."

"That's crème, you uncultured swine!" he refuted, making Shane laugh. "Now give it a try. I was going to bring you breakfast in bed, but I lost track of time."

Taking the muffin from Ryan, he took a bite out of the top, wanting to get as perfect a bite as possible. Shane closed his eyes as all the flavors hit him, moaning his appreciation for how good it was.

"Banana pecan with fresh crème and cinnamon," Ryan explained, smiling at Shane when he opened his eyes. "I wanted to thank you for taking care of me last night."

"You don't need to thank me, man," he said around a mouthful.

"Yes, I do," he insisted, his tone sincere. "I know I was a lot to handle last night and I wanted to say thanks... also reassure you that I'm okay."

Shane nodded his understanding and Ryan beamed, taking off to grab his own muffin. He took a large bite out of it, not a care in the world for all the crumbs dropping onto his shirt or the floor.

"I was thinking that we could go for a stroll through the hedge-maze."

Shane felt his eyebrows reach for his hairline. "You want to do the maze? When I asked you about it you said, and I quote, 'I don't feel like freezing to death in a bush, thanks.'"

Ryan shrugged. "I was just kidding. You down?"

Having wanted to do it in the first place, Shane readily agreed, leaving the disaster kitchen behind in favor of grabbing their jackets from the room as well as the handheld, thinking that them winding their way through the maze could make for a funny bit of footage. When they got to the lobby, Shane punched in the keycode to the security system panel so they could go outside without setting off 800 alarms and Ryan unlocked the door.

Walking out of the hotel, Ryan opened his arms wide and with his head to the sky, as if he were in a state of euphoria. It wasn't too cold, Shane noted, and it looked beautiful with the new snow and the rising sun painting the sky with pinks and oranges. The landscape looked like it should be on a postcard with a 'wish you were here' caption on the back. When Ryan turned back to look at him, there were tears swimming in his eyes.

"Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?" he asked, a tear slipping down his cheek. "Look at this. I can't believe I get to see this again."

Shane didn't know where to start with processing Ryan's emotions, so he focused on his word choice. "Again? You've been here before?"

Ryan ignored his question and grabbed his hand, excitedly leading him to the maze entrance. "How about you enter here and I enter from the exit? We'll see who makes it to the middle first!"

Before he could reply, Ryan was off and running to the exit at the other end of the maze. He waved at him when arrived and yelled loud enough to be heard, "Go on one! Three, two, one!"

Shane took off into the maze, initially taking the left turn. He saw from a diorama in the entrance hall that the maze was rather large and would take some time to get through. He had some experience with mazes, mainly of the corn field variety thanks to his midwest upbringing. Thinking it put him at an advantage, he slowed down and started to strategize.

Taking the handheld out of his jacket pocket, he turned it on and started recording with the front camera, the cracked screen all the more apparent in the light of day.

"So, Ryan has challenged yours truly to a race to the center of the hedge-maze here at the Overlook." He turned around in place to show that he was indeed in the maze. "Little does the ol' Bergmeister know, I have traversed many a corn maze and in order to keep my Illinoisan card, I must beat him soundly." Before he could continue on his path, he stopped to think for a second. "Is Illinoisan the correct demonym? It doesn't sound right. Illinoisian? Illinoian? Weigh in with the hashtag #demonymshane. Yeah, that's right, I know what you ghouligans talk about. Looking at you Tumblr."

Turning the camera back off, he smiled to himself and kept walking. The sound of snow crunching under his feet was something he learned to love only after he moved to LA and no longer regularly heard it. Keeping his path as forward moving and to the left as possible, he continued to walk deeper into the maze. After awhile of continuously hitting dead end after dead end, he tried backtracking, using his own prints in the snow to guide him. Trying a new path, he walked it as far as he could before he, yet again, kept hitting dead ends. Thinking he would need to start all over again, he followed his footprints until he came to a point where his prints came to a dead stop mid-path. The snowfall wasn't enough to account for the complete cover-up of his prints and even if it were, it wouldn't have come to such a sudden stop. Spinning around in place, he felt the first thread of panic settling in. He knew that hedge-mazes were designed to be tricky, but not so hard that people got well and truly lost. Deciding he had no better option, he continued down the path where his footprints disappeared.

Shane didn't know how long he walked for, but just as he was on the verge of doing something truly embarrassing like yelling Ryan's name at the top of his lungs or straight up walking through the hedges, he saw a clearing lined with animal topiaries and a few benches in front of him. He sighed in relief and gratefully walked into the little courtyard.

The feeling of someone grabbing his sides from behind him was accompanied by a loud "Boo!"

How his knees didn't give out, Shane would never know. He turned around and was greeted by Ryan's smiling face. "Jesus Christ, Ryan."

"I was starting to get concerned, you know," he said, tapping his wrist where a watch would sit. "I was about to send up a flare or something."

"I wasn't that long."

Ryan looked up at him in confusion. "Have you not checked your watch?"

"What are you talking about?"

Tilting his head in the direction of his wrist, Ryan directed him to look at his own watch. Curiously, he lifted his arm and checked the time. The weak kneed feeling of Ryan scaring him returned and he shook his head in denial. "No. There's no way."

"You really didn't know you took so long?"

"There must be something wrong with my watch."

"There's nothing wrong with your watch, Shane," he said, his face amused and not at all sympathetic. "Look up."

Following his direction, Shane did look up at the sky and sure enough, the sun was directly over head and beating down on them. "I - no. There's no way. I wasn't in there for almost six fucking hours."

"You kind of were though."

Infuriated by Ryan's flippant attitude, Shane got in his face. "And you fucking left me in there!? You didn't come look for me? Call my name?"

"It's not like you called my name."

Tired, angry, and just wanting to get the fuck out of there, Shane ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, trying to release all of his negativity. "Just get us out of here."

Ryan led them out of the maze, the walk taking no more than ten minutes. When they got back to the Overlook, they locked the door and set the security system again. Just to be sure he wasn't being tricked, Shane checked the clock in the lobby. 11:46am, the same time as his watch. Wanting to get away from Ryan, still hurt by his lack of concern, Shane went and did their check-in with the police. When he returned to the lounge, he found Ryan sprawled out on a sofa.

"Since you made breakfast, I'll do lunch. What do you want?"

Pursing his lips, Ryan seemed to contemplate his choices. "You know what, I'm in the mood for a croque-monsieur."

Shane stared down at him with a blank expression. "I'm not fucking Gordon Ramsay. The closest you're getting to that is a grilled cheese."

"Sounds good to me."

Leaving Ryan to his own devices, Shane went to the kitchen and was abruptly reminded of the mess they'd left behind. He cleaned up a bit, knowing he wasn't doing nearly enough, but in no mood to do a proper cleaning. He found the pantry and grabbed a loaf of bread, then went to the fridge and pulled the ingredients he'd need for Ryan's grilled cheese and his own salad. Once he was finished preparing their meals and Ryan hadn't deigned to make an appearance, he found the serving cart and put their plates and drinks on it.

Wheeling the serving cart towards the lounge, Shane started to pick up on a semi-rhythmic thumping sound. Wondering what it could possibly be, he quickened his pace and was stunned by the scene he walked in on.

Sporting equipment was strewn throughout the room and there Ryan was in the eye of it all, baseball bat in hand, hitting tennis balls at the Native American mural on the wall above the fireplace.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" he roared, serving cart forgotten as he ran at Ryan. He ripped the bat and tennis ball out of his hands, then looked at the mural. Clear as day, there were impact marks on the wall. "What were you thinking!? We're liable for that shit!"

"I don't get what the big deal is. I'm just hitting a few balls." He picked up another tennis ball and threw it hard at the wall, Shane noticing that the sound was so much louder in the room.

Balancing the bat against the back of the couch, Shane snatched the next tennis ball Ryan picked up. He forced his voice to be calm even though he was anything but. "I've been patient, I've been understanding with your... behavior since last night, but this is getting out of control. If you don't stop, I'm calling the cops to come get us."

Ryan's features immediately became cold and flat. "I told you what would happen if you did that."

Shane rolled his eyes. "Cut the shit, Ryan. I know something happened to you last night. I'm trying to be understanding and I'm trying to help, but you're not making it easy."

Ryan seemed to be holding back a laugh until he came out with it outright, his laughter echoing through the room. "Goddamn, has anyone ever told you how fucking annoying you are?"

Vividly remembering all the times he had, in fact, been told exactly that, but never by Ryan, Shane wordlessly turned away from him and left the lounge, not giving a single fuck about whatever chaos he might cause in his absence. When he got back to their room, he put away the handheld and then laid out on the bed, deciding to take a nap, feeling exhausted down to his bones. He thought they'd have a fun weekend ghost hunting and hanging out, but it was turning into one of the worst weekends of his life. Shane closed his eyes and hoped that when he woke up, Ryan hadn't burned down the hotel in the meantime.

Shane wasn't sure how long he was asleep for, but he awoke to someone gently shaking his shoulder.

"Hey, Shane, wake up."

Opening his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of Ryan looking down at him with a soft expression, one that fit him much more than what he'd been seeing. He could see from the windows that it was dark out and judging from the smell of the room, Ryan had made dinner.

"What time is it?"

"Past seven. I already checked-in for us."

Shane sat up in the bed and ran a hand over his face, surprised that he still felt tired. He felt Ryan sit down on the bed beside him.

"Hey, I, uh - I wanted to apologize for earlier."

Looking at him, he looked more like the Ryan he knew and loved than he had all day. "I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"No, no, you were right to. I was getting out of hand. I - I don't even recognize myself in whatever that mess was earlier."

"Do you feel better?"

Ryan put a hand up and tilted it side to side. "A bit. I did make dinner though, so if you wouldn't mind dining with your shitty friend, I think that could get me all the way to good."

Smirking, Shane got up and followed Ryan into the living room where he'd set up dinner. He'd made ramen, the real kind, and what looked like chocolate mousse for dessert. They sat down to eat and it was like everything was back to normal. Ryan joked around, talked about some of the cases he wanted to cover in the next season of True Crime, talked shit about the hot daga even though he secretly liked it. When they finished, they cleaned up and grabbed their filming equipment so they could do a quick investigation.

"Where do you wanna go?" Shane asked as he clasped his body cam.

"I'm thinking the Gold Room."

Again walking through the hotel at night, Shane was convinced that the place was playing tricks with his vision. Shadows appeared longer than they should, he thought he saw corridors where he knew one couldn't exist. When he walked into the Gold Room, he could've sworn he saw someone standing behind the bar until he looked over at it head-on.

Blinking hard to get his eyes adjusted to the room, he training the handheld back on Ryan, who looked right at him with a smirk as he announced to the room, "Hey there, demons. It's me, ya boy."

"Wow, hey! That's trademarked!"

Ryan laughed. "This place is a demon hovel; I had to!"

"What happened to you not addressing the demons?"

"I've decided I should take a note out of your book," he said, a look of absolute glee on his face. "Check this out. Come at me demons! Make me bleed! Drag me down to the underworld!"

Maybe it was because he was used to Ryan showing more trepidation when it came to demons, but Shane felt uneasy about his brash approach, even as he laughed at it. "Holy shit."

Turning the spirit box on, Ryan continued. "Time to communicate with me if you want me to think you're more than some weak ass wisps of air."

Ryan's aggressive attitude continued through their investigation of the Gold Room and rec room. Shane laughed throughout, Ryan's enjoyment infectious, but he found it odd that they got nothing, not so much as a voice through the spirit box or an unidentifiable sound. He never thought they were caused by ghosts, but the resounding silence they were getting was unusual compared to everywhere else they went, even compared to their formal investigation with the crew on the first day. When they decided to hang it up for the night, he figured Ryan would've been at least a little upset, like he usually was when they went somewhere and got nothing, but the opposite was true. He was laughing about how their ghost stompers were finally working, that the ghosts and demons were scared of them.

It wasn't late enough for them to check-in, but Ryan said Shane could take the first shower and he'd call in on the radio and have the police inform TJ that they were going to bed early. Shane commented that he was impressed with his newfound bravery, for voluntarily wandering the hotel alone, and Ryan flipped him off as he walked out the door.

By the time Ryan returned, Shane was showered and relaxing on the bed, laptop open on his lap as he reviewed the video recorded from Ryan's body cam. He didn't know why, but he had the nagging sensation that he was missing something, an answer hovering just in front of him that he couldn't see.

"Oh, hey," Ryan said when he walked into the bedroom, pointing at Shane's face. "You're wearing your glasses."

Shane looked over to him and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Yeah?"

"Nothing. I just always liked those glasses on you."

They shared a smile before Ryan went into the bathroom to take his shower. Shane focused back on his laptop then, clicking to open the video file for the night Ryan had his seizure. He watched it from the start, smiling at their banter before all hell broke loose. There was nothing unusual in the footage until they separated in the junction area when he was going to offer to go check out the dark, tunnel-like path. A distortion, see-through except for its ability to manipulate the picture and light, kind of how Shane imagined a ghost would look like if captured on camera, appeared in front of Ryan just before he gasped. Then the distortion moved fast towards the camera and promptly disappeared, which is when Ryan said his name.

Shane didn't know what to make of it. He didn't believe in ghosts, he did NOT, but Ryan had clear evidence that he had seen something. Backing up the footage, he watched it again, and then one more time for good measure, and there was no mistaking the timing between what was caught on camera and Ryan's reaction it. It was the best evidence Ryan had gotten to date and for the life of him, Shane couldn't find a way to explain it away. He continued to stare at the image of the shape until Ryan opened the bathroom door, steam escaping the room as he stood in the doorway in nothing but his boxers, little rivulets of water still clinging to him.

It wasn't often that Shane's resolve to not tell Ryan about how he felt about him was tested, but when it was, he had to actively stomp down on the impulse and distract himself. Feeling heat rising in his cheeks, he looked away and back down to his laptop, looking at the screen but not seeing anything. He was relieved when he saw Ryan turn away and go back into the bathroom, the sound of him brushing his teeth coming seconds later. Shane coughed to clear his throat.

"Hey, Ryan," he started, trying to figure out a way to word his question so he didn't sound like he was proposing something supernatural. "Have you noticed anything... unusual about the hotel?"

The sound of Ryan brushing his teeth stopped. "What do you mean?"

"Doesn't this place seem, I don't know, bigger than it should be? I mean, it's weird. From the outside, it looks big, but on the inside, it's so much bigger. The Gold Room alone should take up a huge portion of the hotel, but on the inside, it takes up barely anything."

Ryan laughed, the sound distorted by the toothpaste in his mouth. "Are you seriously implying that this place is the TARDIS?"

Shane sighed as loudly as he could so Ryan could hear him over his renewed vigor in brushing his teeth. "No, I'm implying that it's... I'm implying there's something wrong with this place."

"All that's wrong is your perception," he replied after he rinsed out his mouth. "A place can't change in size."

"You mean to tell me that you of all people -," Shane started, stopping when Ryan walked into the room and stopped by his side of the bed. Swallowing, Shane tried again. "You haven't seen anything unusual?"

The space between them became charged, Shane very much distracted by Ryan's state of undress, but trying to make himself seem open to talking about whatever Ryan had seen. And Ryan... Ryan seemed interested in something else entirely.

"No."

Ryan leaned forward and took his glasses off, placing them on the bedside table. Shane blinked at the sudden reminder of his terrible vision. "What are you doing?"

Next, his laptop was closed and given residence beside his glasses.

"You know what I'm doing."

The bed shifted as Ryan climbed on, a hand on Shane's chest gently urging him to lie on his back. Ryan's body moved with his and when his head hit the pillow, Ryan leaned in and kissed him, the kiss more gentle and caring than their first one. Shane reached up and cupped his face, his fingers slipping into wet hair. His body was impossibly hot and he smiled into the kiss.

"Jesus, how hot was that shower?"

Ryan trailed his lips along his jaw until he got to his ear, then whispered, "Hot as Hell."

Unprepared for Ryan's next move, Shane gasped and arched his back when Ryan bit down on the sensitive spot of his neck. A series of nips down to his shoulder turned Shane's breath shallow and sensitized his skin, the blood pounding in his ears echoing what was happening throughout the rest of his body. Ryan sat up long enough to get Shane's shirt off before he was on him again, moving down his chest.

Shane moved his hands up and down Ryan's arms, the feel of them moving and shifting mesmerizing him. The continued heat of his skin started to concern him, but the haze of arousal still surrounded him, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

"Ryan," he said, the name more a moan than a call for attention.

"Shane."

Moving back up, Ryan kissed him again and it grew intense, the warmth and taste of his mouth intoxicating Shane, making him feel almost drunk. Ryan moved so he was lying on top of him, chest to chest, and the movement again reminded Shane of the almost unbearable heat radiating off of him.

Moving his mouth away from Ryan's, he tried again. "Ryan."

"Hmm?" he intoned, taking Shane's move as an invitation to pay attention to his neck.

"You're -," he started, cut off by his own moan as Ryan pulled his hair. "You're hot."

Ryan chuckled. "I'm flattered."

"That's not -."

Moving so he was sitting in his lap, Ryan pulled him up, kissing him again with renewed passion. Shane got lost in it, kissing him and running his hands over his back, digging his nails in. It took every drop of resolve he had in him to break the kiss off.

"Ryan, why - why're you so hot?"

"Genetics," he said, then bit the shell of his ear.

Shane felt lightheaded, like Ryan was his air and by not kissing him he was dying. He arched his head for another kiss, Ryan complying. Somewhere in his head, somewhere that wasn't desperately craving Ryan, was setting off alarms that something was wrong. There had been no build up to them having sex, no love confessions, no acknowledgment that getting involved could fuck everything up. Ryan hadn't been acting right all day. Everything was wrong, but that didn't mean it felt that way.

"I don't think we should do this," Shane said, the very words hurting him as he continued to cling to Ryan.

"Oh, really?"

"We need to stop." He kissed Ryan, tasting him one last time. Gripping his sides, he tried to move him so he'd get the message to get off of him, even as he rubbed his cheek against his. When he didn't move away, Shane found the words. "Ryan, stop."

Before he could even register what happened, Ryan was off of him and lying on the other side of the bed. Not having Ryan against him physically pained him, his muscles straining and his skin feeling like thousands of ants were crawling all over him. He put his head in his hands, embarrassed and angry with himself... as well as hopelessly and painfully turned on, in imminent danger of telling his concerns to fuck right off and going back to Ryan, come what may.

"If I'd known you'd just be a cocktease, I wouldn't have done anything."

Wounded by the barb, Shane lifted his head and glared at him. "What the fuck has gotten into you?"

"Too soon to make a joke about what hasn't gotten into me?"

If he'd been within reaching distance, he would've suffocated Ryan with his pillow. "Fuck you, Ryan."

"Apparently not." He turned away from Shane and sprawled out on his side. "Turn the light out when you go to sleep."

Skin still buzzing, Shane laid back and stared at the ceiling, wondering how they could've gone so wrong so fast and if there was any way back. The lightheaded sensation started to recede and in its place was the start of a headache. After pulling the cord on the lamp, Shane closed his eyes and hoped for sleep, free from the storm of his thoughts and Ryan's cold regard.


	5. Baseball Bats and Axes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is where the violence tag comes into play ya'll!! while not particularly graphic, there are acts of violence described in this chapter

Yet again waking to an empty bed, Shane scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration.

The previous night came flooding back to him in perfect clarity; the heat, his desperation for more, the feel of his insides burning up. Regardless of how it ended, he knew the night would fuel his dreams for a long time to come and make it all the more difficult to stay away from Ryan once he was back to acting like himself.

Shane got dressed quickly and left the room with the intention of finding Ryan, wanting to smooth things over for their final day of filming. As he thought over what little material they had, including having neglected to turn on the static cams the previous night, he figured that they'd have to film nearly all day to have any hope of having enough footage.

Unlike the previous day, Shane did not find Ryan in the kitchen, or any sign that he'd been in there at all. Wondering if he'd gone to radio in, he checked Ullman's office and again, found no sign of his friend. He quickly radioed in before deciding to check the Gold Room. Nothing.

Ryan also wasn't in the rec room, lounge, or outside in the maze, the alarm still armed and the door locked. Deciding to go for broke, Shane yelled his name in the lobby in the off chance that he was nearby and would come if he called for him, but no such luck.

If Ryan was hiding from him, he had 420 rooms to pick from and a keycard to get him into any one of them.

Stewing in his own frustration, Shane grabbed an apple from the kitchen and made his way back to their room, deciding that if Ryan wanted to play that game, he wasn't going to play along. He turned the TV on to a Deadwood marathon for background noise and opened his laptop, reviewing his notes for the upcoming season of Ruining History. As they'd been told, the WiFi was garbage and he couldn't go online to cross-check his notes and annotations. After he'd done what he could with what he had for Ruining History, he pulled the SD cards from the static cams in the room and started to review the footage.

Typically, he didn't review the footage from their investigations; he would write off everything that could potentially be construed as supernatural or odd and subsequently make the show a hell of a lot more boring. He liked when Ryan got "evidence," it kept him invested and the show interesting; a win-win if Shane ever saw one. In reviewing the footage, he tried to be open minded, putting himself in a mindset like Ryan's so he wouldn't miss anything.

In regards to supernatural activity, Shane didn't see anything of note, open mind or not, but that didn't mean there wasn't anything weird. Checking the times of the living room footage against the bedroom's, he was alarmed to note that not only was Ryan in and out of the room frequently while he continued to sleep undisturbed, Ryan didn't sleep _at_ _all_. It appeared that what he'd do is wait until Shane was asleep, his snores making that apparent, then get out of bed and leave the room.

All of Ryan's unusual behavior started to add up; his seizure and its after affects, compounded by his inability to sleep was making him act out of character and Shane blamed nobody but himself. He knew he should've called the cops after the seizure, or dragged Ryan out of the hotel kicking and screaming if need be, and instead he'd caved into the demands of his ill friend because he didn't want to upset him. Shane was furious with himself, at his inability to listen to common sense over his feelings. With a new determination, he closed his laptop and left the room to start an earnest search for Ryan, worried that he had somehow hurt himself and needed help.

Entering the lounge, Shane noticed two big differences in the room:

First, it was starting to get dark outside and snow was coming down hard, white chaos spinning outside the windows. He knew he'd been on his laptop for hours, but he didn't think that much time had passed. Depending on the strength of the storm though, the clouds could be very thoroughly blocking out the sunlight.

And two, Ryan had evidently been in the room recently.

Approaching the long table at the entrance to the room, he noticed Ryan's laptop partially closed and papers scattered all over the surface. Most of the weathered papers appeared to be accounts from the various winter caretakers since the Overlook opened, the last one dated belonging to none other than Charles Grady. Shane picked it up and read it, the bulk of the letter being a long winded explanation about how he couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't anymore, including his family. He went on to detail that he felt a dark energy around him and that he didn't know how much longer he could resist its pull. Putting it aside, he leafed through the rest, wondering where Ryan had found the letters and why the police hadn't confiscated Grady's letter after the murders.

Most disturbingly though, were various papers that had all kinds of symbols and markings on them, recently drawn in pen. One page had a long passage written in Latin, which he knew for a fact Ryan didn't know. Shane's didn't know Latin either, but it was hard to miss the word 'exorcismus.' Baffled by whatever the hell Ryan was doing, he lifted the lid of his laptop, only to see Ryan standing right behind him on the blank screen.

"Fucking hell, Ryan!" he exclaimed, spinning around to face him. "You could've said something."

Ryan stared at him with a blank expression, long enough to make him feel uncomfortable, before he asked, "What are you doing?"

Still reeling from the scare, Shane forced himself to remember why he was there. "I came to find you. I haven't seen you all day and I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Ryan's facial expression didn't change and when he took a step towards Shane, he took a step back, unnerved by his demeanor. When Ryan took another step towards Shane and he took another step back, Ryan glanced down at his feet and smirked.

"What's wrong, Shane? I thought you came down to make sure I'm okay."

"I - I did and I'm glad you are," he stuttered, fear flooding his chest, his fight-or-flight instinct kicking into high gear. Everything about Ryan, down to his predatory gait, was telling him that he was in danger.

Somehow Shane knew that his life was hanging in the balance and Ryan was going to tip the scales.

"Why do I get the distinct feeling you're lying?" Ryan asked, taking another step towards him.

"I'm not."

Shane's hand grazed something as he walked beside the couch and he grabbed it, belatedly realizing it was the baseball bat Ryan had been using the previous day. Lifting it so both hands were gripping it, he held the bat between himself and Ryan.

Laughing, the sound harsh and malicious, Ryan said, "For someone who claims to care so much about me, you're not acting like it."

When his heel hit a stair, Shane stepped up onto it, walking up the stairs backwards. "I do and now that I know you're okay, I'm going to go back to our room."

"Why?"

"Because I - I need time to think. I just need a chance to think things over."

"You've had you're whole fucking life to think things over!" Ryan spat at him, his face contorted into anger. "What good's a few more minutes gonna do you now?"

Ryan made a grab for the bat and Shane swung it away, keeping him from taking it. His blood was thrumming through his veins, pounding in his ears, and it felt like every nerve ending in him had come alive. He swung the bat between them again, keeping Ryan away from him. "Stay away from me."

Any trace of emotion dropped from Ryan's face in favor of cold hatred. "Shane, give me the bat."

Shane swung again, nearly tripping on the next step up. "Don't come any closer."

"Give me the bat."

Noticing that his heel didn't hit another step, he knew he reached the top of the staircase. "Get away from me!"

"GIVE ME THE FUCKING BAT!"

The next second played out with a slowness that Shane knew he could directly attribute to massive amounts of adrenaline spilling into his system, but poetically could be attributed to his world shifting on its axis.

Like a curtain closing on a stage, inky blackness fell over Ryan's eyes, robbing them of their color. With unbreakable surety, Shane knew he had badly miscalculated, that Ryan hadn't been acting like himself not because he was somehow impaired from a seizure, but that he hadn't been acting like himself because _he wasn't himself_. He'd been possessed by the very demon he was terrified of.

After sending up a silent prayer to a God he didn't believe in, Shane gripped the bat as if his life depended on it and swung for Ryan's head.

The sickening crack of the bat connecting with Ryan's skull was the stuff of nightmares and snapped Shane back into the moment, screaming as he watched Ryan's body fall and crumble at the bottom of the stairs, blood pooling around his head. Collapsing to his knees, he registered that he was shaking and his breath was coming in in short pulls, both clear signs that he was going into shock. Looking back down at Ryan's body, he felt the walls closing in on him until he saw his head move, then a hand.

Ryan, or better yet, the demon possessing Ryan, was still alive.

Scrambling to his feet, Shane intended to run back to their room, but standing at the end of the hall were two girls in blue dresses holding hands. Frozen by the sight of the ghosts, Shane was caught off guard when he heard Ryan moan and he stumbled backwards, almost tripping over his own feet before he began running in the opposite direction.

Ducking down one hallway and then another, he saw that at the end of the hall was the caretaker's quarters. Figuring that he could find something to defend himself with, he ran full speed to the room, opening the door and immediately running into the little kitchen area. Using what little light was spilling into the room from the windows, he started yanking open drawers until he found a large chef's knife. When he heard the sound of the electronic lock unlatch, he ran into the bathroom as quietly as he could and locked the door.

Several seconds passed in silence, only the sound of his breathing disturbing the quiet, until there was a series of taps on the door.

"Oh, Shane, I think you hurt me a bit. Can't say I'm going to go as easy on you now when I get my hands on you."

The door shook with the force of whatever Ryan hit it with and Shane gripped the knife tighter, braving himself for the moment Ryan figured out a way to get inside. He initially thought Ryan was swinging the bat he left behind at the door, but cold realization hit him when two hits later, a flurry of splinters came flying from the door and the dim sunlight reflected off of the metal head of an ax.

Ryan was trying to kill him the same way Grady killed his wife and kids.

Screaming, Shane half ran, half tripped to the other side of the bathroom, watching helplessly as Ryan pulled more of the door away with each swing. Opening the window, he looked out and saw that the snow storm had piled snow along the side of the hotel, making it possible for him to push himself out of the window and slide down to the ground.

"Honey, I'm home," Ryan singsonged, sticking his head through the door, then pulling back and sticking his hand through the gap he created and reaching for the lock.

Thinking on impulse and knowing he needed a few seconds to make his escape, Shane took the chef's knife and stabbed it through Ryan's hand, impaling him to the door.

Ryan's screams followed Shane through the window, dying as he reached the ground and the snow storm cancelled out the noise.

Shane ran to the front of the hotel and busted a window with a rock because he didn't have the key to the door and climbed through, glass cutting up his hands. He immediately ran to Ullman's office to make a distress call, but found that at some point, Ryan had busted the system. Seeing no other possibility, Shane made a mad dash for room 237.

Luckily, the ghost sisters weren't in the hall to greet him and Ryan wasn't anywhere in sight, so he ran into the room and dived into the corner where Ryan had discarded his clothes the night of his possession and found exactly what he was looking for.

Ryan's not-so-stupid-anymore baby blue holy water-gun.

Shaking it to be sure it was still filled with holy water, Shane was relieved to hear the sloshing sound of the blessed water.

"You know, you're presenting more of a problem than I thought you would."

Shane turned around holding up the holy water-gun and aimed at Ryan. He painted a horrible picture, blood covering half his face and dripping down his chest, hand bleeding all over the floor. It was one thing to see someone so bloodied in the movies or on TV, but another to see it in person and know you were the cause of it.

"Pretty grim, isn't it?" Ryan said, gesturing towards his head. "I gotta give it to you, Shane, that was a great hit. Would've been a homer if you hit, you know, a baseball instead of Ryan's head."

The gun shook in his hands, the blood on them already making his grip on it difficult.

"You really think that little water gun is going to hurt me? It would take a lot more than that to get me out of your friend."

Ryan walked towards him and once he was within reach, Shane shot him with the gun. To his horror, the holy water left a burn along the side of his face, from his cheek up into his hair. He stumbled backwards, holding onto his face and when he looked back up, his eyes were black.

"I've had enough of you."

Ryan put his hand up and the next thing Shane knew, he was flying backwards until he hit a wall, the back of his head hitting the edge of the window frame. He fell to the ground, his vision swimming and and his limbs uncooperative. Ryan grabbed his ankle and dragged him away from the wall, laying him flat on his back before he sat on his chest and covered his mouth and nose with his bloody hands, suffocating him as his blood got all over Shane's face and dripped into his mouth.

"Oh, it's going to kill Ryan when he realizes he's the one who killed you... assuming I let him live, of course," Ryan laughed in his face, effortlessly resisting Shane's struggle. "And to think, he was actually thinking about telling you he was in love with you. Too late for that."

Shane struggled harder, moving his head every which way even though it made the gash at the back of his head sting with the pull on his skin, and he tried to buck Ryan off by twisting his torso, but he didn't move an inch. Tears were clouding his eyes and just as blackness was closing in on him, Ryan was suddenly gone.

Trying to see where he went, Shane rolled to his side, coughing as his lungs filled with air. Ryan was standing on the other side of the room, looking in terror up at something Shane couldn't see. Following the path of his eyes, Shane didn't see anything corporeal, but he did see that something was manipulating the shadows, tall and thin with horns and fingers that reminded him of Nosferatu's.

"Barthazar."

"Valac," the entity, apparently named Barthazar, replied. Shane didn't know how he could hear it, but its voice was as clear as if it were standing beside him. "Quite the interesting plot you've hatched."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ryan, apparently named Valec, replied, sounding scared. "I have no plot."

"And the sigils you sketched were for entertainment, were they? Not to exorcise me from the Earth?"

There was no reply from Ryan/Valac.

"You grew tired of your time on Earth... wanted to come home, which I can sympathize with," the entity said, sounding as sympathetic as a voice that sounded like static could. "But you wanted our fellows to bow to you and you knew the only way you could accomplish that is to send me unwillingly back home; to have your former commander captured and at your mercy. Sounding familiar?"

"Barthazar, Your Highness -."

The entity continued as if Ryan/Valac had never spoken. "But you needed a body to do it, the body of someone with the shining. Along comes the boy you're possessing and here we are, at the end of your toils with nothing to show for it. I must confess, you were far more productive when you were satisfied with manipulating the hearts of men to murder."

Ryan/Valac bowed to the entity. "Your Highness, I wish to only serve you. My and my abilities are at your command."

"Then why have you not used your abilities since you possessed the boy? You know that I can no longer sense your presence when you possess a human, unless you use your abilities." The entity lifted its hand, folding its fingers into its palm in a gesture for Ryan/Valac to approach. "Come. I am returning you home, as you wished, though not in the manner you wished it."

"I do not wish to return," Ryan/Valac said, backing away.

"The choice is no longer yours. And Valac, if you kill the boy when you vacate him, your punishment will be all the more severe."

Ryan/Valac's face morphed into an expression of disgust. "Why does it matter if the boy survives?"

"He must possess great strength to spite a spirit of death. His love of life infected you, delayed the execution of your plan. You experienced his joy for life and reveled in it." Sounding almost wistful, the entity said, "It is a rarity to come across something so beautiful. Spare the boy or experience the consequences."

With obvious reluctance, Ryan/Valac reached a hand out and as it made contact with the entity's, there was a burst of light that temporarily blinded Shane, then nothing.

Blinking hard to adjust his eyes to the dying light of day, Shane saw Ryan sprawled out on the floor across the room. Rolling onto his stomach, he used what energy he had left to crawl over to him, ignoring the blood sliding down the sides of his face and onto the floor. He placed two fingers onto Ryan's neck looking for a pulse.

The last thing he registered before he passed out was that he didn't find one.


	6. Recovery

Red.

The color red is all he could see, the light of the room showing him the red of his blood circulating through his eyelids. Opening his eyes, Shane squinted as he adjusted to the light. From what he could see, he was in a hospital room.

"Heads for yes, tails for no: does Shane stay awake this time?"

Turning towards the voice, Shane saw TJ sitting in a chair beside his bed. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and his hair flat, like he'd only done the bare minimum of upkeep and nothing more. His head was resting in his hand, like he just didn't have the energy to keep holding it up anymore.

"Ryan," he said, his voice cracking over the name from disuse. "Is Ryan dead?"

TJ scrubbed his hand over his eyes and with a sinking realization, Shane knew he didn't make it. Ryan was dead and he'd been the one to kill him, a little help from Valac in the end or not. His chest hurt, like it was caving in on itself, and suddenly every possible piece of medical equipment in the room started blaring. Moving with a speed he didn't look capable of at the moment, TJ jumped up from his chair and grabbed Shane's arms, stopping their frenetic movements over his own chest.

"Ryan's alive, Shane! Stop!" he yelled as Shane continued to fight him for control of his arms. "He's alive! He's hurt, but he's alive."

As his words coalesced into meaning, Shane stopped fighting TJ, calming down as he let it sink in that Ryan wasn't dead, that he hadn't killed him in his attempt to kill the demon. The machines stopped screaming, resuming their usual beeps. Once it didn't look like Shane was a danger to himself any longer, TJ sat back down in his chair, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. After scrubbing his hands over his face, he looked back up at Shane.

"He has a cracked skull, two broken ribs, a second degree burn on the side of his face, and his hand's pretty fucked up, but he's alive." They stared at each other until he quietly asked, "Shane, what the fuck happened up there?"

The answer to that question was as simple as it was complicated. Short version, Ryan got possessed by a demon that tried to kill him and he tried to kill it. But how did that convey the nuances of what happened? Of the choices he had to make? No one would believe him; hell, he wouldn't believe it if it hadn't happened to him. He had so many unanswered questions himself, so he replied at least somewhat truthfully, "I don't know."

"Was it the drugs you took?"

Shane blinked, unsure if he'd heard him correctly. "I'm sorry?"

"Doctors tested your blood when you came in... said there was something in your blood, but they couldn't identify it. They said that the compounds were similar to those in psychotropics like cocaine."

"I didn't take fucking coke, TJ, Jesus Christ. I liked Scarface, doesn't mean I wanna faceplant into a pile of the white stuff."

TJ smiled, small but genuine. "They also said you would've taken the drugs orally and I don't exactly think eating coke is the recommended method of administration."

Thinking back to their stay, he tried to think of how he could've taken drugs without knowing it, and the answer hit him: When Ryan - the demon - kissed him, he'd felt intoxicated, like he was drunk, and his body felt like a livewire. He liked sex and he liked Ryan, but he'd never felt like that in the moment and he doubted that just because it was with Ryan would make up for the difference. It was the demon's kiss that had poisoned him.

Looking away from TJ, unwilling to divulge that little bit of information, he looked down at his hands and made an observation. "Why am I not handcuffed to the bed or something? Did Law and Order lie to me and that doesn't really happen?"

"Buzzfeed sent down a football team of very angry, very expensive lawyers the second after they found out about what happened. The cops haven't gotten anywhere near you or Ryan."

Shane furrowed his eyebrows. "Speaking of, how did _you_ find out what happened?"

"You didn't check-in," he said, as if the answer was obvious. "I was already going to go up, but then the alarm got tripped by a broken window. Cops went up instead in a Snowcat and found you two. You were unconscious and Ryan was... Ryan was dead, but they managed to revive him. They had you heloed out."

Unable to focus on the part about Ryan actually dying at some point, he rubbed his hands over his face. "Did you call our parents?"

"They're all here, so are your brothers."

"Where are they?"

TJ looked uneasily at him, then picked up the remote that controlled the TV and turned it on. Flipping through the channels, Shane saw the same thing playing live across CNN, MSNBC, and Fox News. Ryan's dad was standing at a lectern reading from a letter in what looked like the hospital's press room, his own dad standing beside him. Their brothers were standing to one side looking stoic and on the other side were their moms, his mom crying as Ryan's held her hand, rubbing her arm soothingly. Fox's chyron read **Ryan Bergara's Father Speaks in Defense of Shane Madej** , the connotation Fox was making clear as day.

He did it and he needed defending.

"We made national news?"

"Two Youtube stars go to film in an infamously haunted hotel and turn up close to dead two days later. Why _wouldn't_ you be national news?" he rebutted, Shane giving him the point. TJ sighed, his exhaustion apparent again. "A lot's happened over the past two days, man. You had a bad reaction to the blood transfusions they had to give you, so you've been in and out of it with fever until now. Ryan had to be put in a coma for the brain swelling and they only woke him up an hour or so ago. He's obviously worse off from whatever happened, so some people think you did it and whatever happened to you was Ryan defending himself. Others think it was an intruder and frankly, that and the lawyers is all that's kept the police from slapping an attempted murder charge on you. A knife is all that's keeping you safe right now."

"A knife?" he asked, wondering how the knife that he stabbed Ryan with was keeping the long arms of justice at bay.

"The knife you stabbed someone with. Police thought it was the weapon that injured Ryan's hand, but the blood type on the knife doesn't match you or Ryan; they can't identify the type at all, but the blood isn't either of yours. Since it's not the knife that injured him, some figure the intruder left with whatever Ryan was stabbed with."

Beyond done with assumptions and speculation, and in desperate need of reassurance, Shane maneuvered his legs over the side of the bed, gripping the IV stand for support.

"What are you doing?" TJ asked, standing and putting his hands out to support him.

"I'm going to see Ryan."

"You can barely stand! Just rest up for a bit."

Ignoring him, Shane started to make his way to the door, but keeled over when his legs grew weak. If TJ didn't grabbed him when he did, he would've hit the floor.

"You can't walk all the way to his room!"

"Then you better go get me a fucking wheelchair or I'm going to embarrass both of us and show everyone how I failed my childhood tumbling classes."

Admitting defeat with an angry grunt, TJ propped him up against the wall and left the room. After a minute, he returned with a wheelchair and helped Shane into it, then wheeled him down the hall to Ryan's room. Mark and Devin were standing outside his door talking, but when they saw Shane and the expression he was wearing, they merely nodded and walked away. Shane thanked TJ, putting as much sincerity into as he could, then gave him a look that asked him to let him do the next part on his own. TJ nodded wordlessly and walked away to join Mark and Devin, leaving Shane staring at the door of Ryan's room. Taking a deep breath, he hit the wheelchair access button and entered the room.

Ryan looked like shit. Nearly the whole side of his head where he hit him with the bat was covered in bandages, ugly purple and black bruises peeking through the edges. There were special gauze-like bandages covering the burn and his chest was wrapped up like a mummy, probably for his broken ribs. Various bruises covered nearly every bit of skin Shane could see. Guilt made Shane's skin prickly uncomfortably and he looked away.

"Shane."

Looking back over at him, Shane saw Ryan looking at him, his expression achingly sad. "Would you come over here, please?"

Shane rolled over to the side of the bed, unsure of what to say because he didn't know where to start. He looked down at his hands, twisting in his lap in a nervous gesture he hadn't done in years. Silence prevailed for several seconds until Ryan quietly, and with a broken voice, spoke.

"Shane, I am so sorry."

Shane's jaw dropped in disbelief and he looked back up at Ryan, who was looking down at his own lap solemnly.

"I am so sorry for - for everything. I know I hurt you and I'm sorry I wasn't able to - to stop what happened. And for -." Ryan cut himself off, snuffling and wiping his nose. "If I forced myself on -."

Waving his hands through the air, he stopped Ryan from saying anything else so demonstrably stupid. "Stop! Stop, stop, stop! You didn't - Jesus, Ryan, you didn't force yourself on me. I -." Shane coughed, steeling himself to confess something he never thought he would. "I wanted it, just - just not like that. Not there."

There was an awkward silence where they didn't say anything and kept looking away and then back to each other, until Ryan asked, "Do you think you can forgive me?"

It was like Ryan didn't hear a word he just said. "There's nothing to forgive! It wasn't even you who - you know... did this," he said as he gestured between both of them, as if encompassing the whole situation.

"Do you forgive me?"

Stopping himself from rolling his eyes, Shane said, "Do you need to hear it? Fine, I forgive you, whatever."

After another measure of silence, Shane braced himself and said, "If anyone should be apologizing, it's me."

Ryan gaped at him like he was the insane one who was apologizing for getting possessed. "You literally just said there's nothing to forgive!"

"For you! You were - you couldn't help what you did. I knew what I was doing the entire time. I tried to - I tried to kill you."

"No, you didn't."

Shane looked him dead in the eye and insisted, "Yes, I did."

"No." Ryan shook his head, the movement limited by his bandages. "You were trying to kill the demon; it wasn't me you were trying to kill."

"Yeah, but that doesn't change what I did to you... it doesn't make _you_ better and only _it_ hurt."

Ryan rolled his lips together and hesitated before asking, "Do you think you'll ever forgive yourself?"

It was amazing how sometimes Ryan saw right through him. Shane was having a hard time just looking at Ryan for the shame burning through him as it was, and he was half-tempted to go up to the first cop he saw and telling them to slap the cuffs on him. Whether it had been Ryan or not he'd tried to kill, it was _Ryan_ who was going to suffer the consequences and that, right there, was the bridge Shane never saw himself getting over.

"Probably not."

Obviously reasoning that there was going to be no getting through to Shane, at least not then, Ryan nodded to himself. "Are our parents here?"

"They're doing a press conference downstairs."

Ryan's eyes widened. "Why are they doing a press conference?"

"They're defending me to the nation. Apparently, your parents think a lot more of me than they should."

Ryan glared at him and he glared back, accepting that the schism between what he did and who he did it to would become a major point of contention between them. Ryan softened his expression after a few seconds, then asked Shane the question he himself had been contemplating. "Where do we go from here?"

"I... don't know. How do you feel about Chicago?"

"For Unsolved? I still haven't gotten approval for the Chicago trip and, you know, I'm not exactly in the best shape to be ghost hunting."

Shane shook his head and smiled in amusement. "I meant for us, just us. I can't promise I'll be the best tour guide, but I'll take you anywhere you wanna go. I know what's haunted, the best places to eat. Anywhere you wanna go, I'll take you there."

Ryan smiled at him. "I'd love to go to Chicago with you, but... how do you feel about Maine?"

"Maine?" Shane asked, interested in the sudden inspiration. He'd never heard Ryan express interest in Maine before.

"Maine. I have a good feeling about it."

Nodding his head, Shane agreed. "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I meant what I said; anywhere you wanna go, I'll take you."

Ryan opened his hand on the bed and Shane took his cue, slipping his hand into his. They smiled at each other until Ryan's face grew serious. "Grab my phone, will you? It's in the drawer."

Using his free hand, Shane pulled the phone out of the drawer and held it out to him, but Ryan shook his head.

"I need you to unlock it - yes, I know you know my pattern lock, don't act like you don't - and open the camera. I can't exactly do it." Ryan held up his left hand, which was completely wrapped in bandages. Shane's face dropped and Ryan put his hand back down quickly, getting it out of his sight.

Shane did as he asked. "Now what do you want me to do?"

"Take a picture of our hands."

Confused, but compliant, Shane focused the camera on their hands. He could see the tiny cuts he got from the broken window and the bruise on the back of Ryan's hand. He could see the contrast in their skin tone, Ryan's beautiful golden tan against the pale of his. But he could also see what Ryan did: a gesture of solidarity. He snapped the picture, then turned the phone around to show Ryan, who nodded approvingly.

"Post it on my Instagram. If were being tried in the eyes of the media, we're not going to go without a fight. It's war." Ryan gripped his hand tighter and Shane looked back up at him. "They're not going to get you," he insisted, more serious than he'd ever seen him. "Not while I'm alive."

Shane didn't know what the future looked like, if he'd ever get past what he'd done to Ryan and learn to forgive himself or not, but he did know one thing: he believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you've picked up on the little threads I've left behind in the last chapter and this one, you can see where I miiiiiiiiight take this in a potential Stephen King sequel. shout off in the comments if you'd be interested!!
> 
> COMPANION MOODBOARD IS [HERE](http://mycroft-silently-judges-you.tumblr.com/post/178017826743/the-shine-of-obsidian-after-months-of)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for your kudos, comments, critiques, angry banshee screams, or whatever you leave for me here or at my tumblr ***[mycroft-silently-judges-you](http://mycroft-silently-judges-you.tumblr.com)***


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